


On Your Knees

by PhantomEngineer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, M/M, very little in the way of consent is happening in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 21:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18199592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomEngineer/pseuds/PhantomEngineer
Summary: With mjölnir in pieces, when Hela commands them to kneel Loki does so, forcing Thor down with him.





	On Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

> If you are reading this because you happened to read 'God of Stories' and liked it, please be warned that this is very different. Also, none of the sexual contact is consensual.

Loki made a sudden, split-second decision as he watched mjölnir crumble. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Thor’s face. He fell to his knees in a graceful and desperate prostration, dragging Thor down with him. Thor, still too shocked to react fully, went down like a sack of bricks to land on his knees. Loki held him there with a firm hand and a tendril of magic that curled it’s way around his brother, a protective embrace that left no other option open to him. Loki knew, that if mjölnir was so easy for her to crush then they stood no chance in open combat. They could die in vain, they could flee in the hopes of escaping her or they could kneel.

Hela smiled.

It was not a warm smile like Thor’s smile. It was cruel and vindictive. It took pleasure in their subjugation.

“Sister,” Loki said, “Father is dead, the throne of Asgard is yours. We will serve you with pleasure.”

“We will not,” Thor retorted, defiant to the last. 

“We will,” Loki insisted, as Hela paused, looking at Thor as though she could crush him under her heel. As though she longed to do just so. As though he would crumble into nothing but useless shards just as mjölnir had, the wielder joining his destroyed weapon. 

“He does not seem willing,” she said, unimpressed, and Loki knew that a killing blow was likely to follow. Even Thor could feel the threat of death looming over his exposed neck as clearly as he could feel the savage grip Loki held over him, numbed as it was by the pain of the loss of mjölnir coupled with the pain of the inevitable betrayal by Loki.

“Thor is stubborn and has always believed it to be his throne,” Loki said, his silver tongue working its charm, “He has always had difficulty adjusting. He’ll come round.”

Hela didn’t seem convinced. She regarded them both like fleas, and Loki dreaded that she would refuse. Would simply kill them both.

“I will ensure that your welcome to Asgard is befitting of a Queen of your status,” he promised, “And Thor is such a good warrior, all he needs is to be commanded by a truly powerful ruler to be forged into a proper weapon.”

“A weapon that refuses to be wielded is useless,” Hela said, as though Thor was nothing but a tool. 

“Then bind his powers to me, as they were once bound to mjölnir,” Loki suggested smoothly, his hand on Thor’s arm never wavering, his magic winding to press down on Thor’s tongue to prevent any arguing. “Let us serve you. Let our powers be used as you see fit.”

Thor choked on the magic that gagged him, unused to Loki’s spells being used against him in such a way. They had always fought physically, and when Loki had used his spells they had more often than not been his doubles whose mocking laughter would follow Thor as he charged from fake to fake in search of the real one. Now there was an ominous pressure crushing him, squeezing him as he imagined it must have squeezed at his father’s mind, robbing him of his will and draining him of his powers.

There was something else there, a shock at realising that Loki’s powers extended beyond those he had used against Thor in their fights before, though that was buried deep under the sensation of being chained only this was not a chain like the one that had been wrapped around him when he fought Sutur but something he stood no chance of breaking free from because it was not a physical chain but a magical bond wrapping its way around him. There was nothing he could do to break free even as he felt something else join it, something dark and decaying that made him shudder, something more malevolent than the imposing will of Loki. 

Something of Hela, binding him to Loki’s fickle frivolity just as he had once drawn his own strength from his bond with the honourable mjölnir.

The constriction relaxed a little, the sense of death and doom leaving him with merely the sensation of a serpent winding its way across his flesh, sinking its poison onto his veins. Thor breathed in, gasping for breath, barely aware that beside him Loki was standing up gracefully, smiling at their sister. Spinning his lies that once upon a time had been spun for Thor’s amusement but now were used as a weapon against him, as though Loki would do anything to harm the brother he had once claimed to love, as though he would do anything to save his own skin. As though proving Thor right, with his initial assessment that one who chose trickery over honourable battle was a coward undeserving of a place in the halls of Valhalla.

“Gather up mjölnir,” Loki instructed him coldly, and for a moment Thor ignored him, focusing only on the feelings of magic that was seeping beneath his skin and the feelings of betrayal that he should be so used to when it came to Loki. Betrayal was his calling now, a malevolent selfishness rather than the mischief he had been named god of.

A kick to the ribs from Hela’s boot woke him from his stupor, and a sharp lash of magic that seemed to briefly sear his flesh forced him to stumble to his feet to fall back to his knees, gathering up what had been mjölnir. He fought it, tried to fight it, but whatever it was the two he refused to consider to be his siblings had done was too strong and his hands reached out of their own accord.

Thor was silent, his tongue no longer his own as he did as he was instructed. Silent as the Bifrost came to summon them back to Asgard where he was no longer returning fresh from a victory to discover his brother alive and usurping the throne but returning with his father dead and his evil siblings now in control of Asgard and him utterly under their control. He was silent as Loki and Hela spoke to the crowds, Loki clearly using his silver tongue and magic to convince the good people that they should kneel to Hela just as the princes had, with no mention that Thor had been unwilling. Thor was still unwilling as he felt Loki’s magic clench around him, forcing him once more to his knees, all of Asgard handed over to Hela without a fight.

Loki smiled and simpered as Thor was held in silence, Hela tearing down the ceiling of the hall he had always known to reveal the truth beneath it, the paintings of her and Odin hidden all the years by the family portrait, Odin’s new family. Thor missed his mother bitterly, wishing she was there even as he knew he would only fear for her. But Frigga had been a powerful sorcerer herself, the one to teach Loki his first spells before he outgrew her and all the tutors she could find for him, delving deeper and deeper into the dark magic that she abhorred. She might be able to break the spell, to free Thor. She would have prevented Odin from being deposed, from Loki taking over Asgard through trickery and falsehoods, making a mockery of all that was good.

He was so consumed in his impotent anger that he barely even noticed the conversation finish until Loki tugged him through the corridors and into a room. It was not Thor’s room, it was not the room that had been Loki’s before Loki’s first, assumed death with the fall from the Bifrost that seemed so long ago.

“Make yourself at home,” Loki said wryly, a mocking edge to his voice and a mocking tilt to his smile. He gestured around the rooms, nothing like what Thor was accustomed to. Even on Midgard Tony provided him with more space. Here there was only one single room, a desk by a small window and a sizeable bed serving as the bulk of the furniture. He knew that there was a bathroom beyond the door, though he also knew that it would be functional rather than luxurious. 

The clamp on his tongue lifted and Thor snarled “You—” before it returned, quashing anything Thor might have wanted to say. Thor lunged at Loki, to wrap his hands around his neck and throttle him, only he did no such thing. He remained frozen in place.

“You can’t hurt me,” Loki explained with a helpful expression on his face, as though he was explaining something to Thor like he had done so often when they had been boys. Only this was different, this was a mocking, gleeful celebration of Loki finally having full control over Thor. Thor ground his teeth in anger, willing his muscles to move, to do anything that might harm Loki, despairing as he found himself unable.

“It’s a bit small,” Loki continued conversationally as though Thor didn’t want to smash his brains out against the stone wall, “But Hela needs some time to trust us after what Odin did to her. I suppose it was not that dissimilar to what he did to you, when you think about it.” He smiled at Thor, sitting on the bed with a bit of a sigh as though he too was displeased with the room and Thor realised to his horror that this wasn’t his room alone. This was for them both to share.

“I suppose, seeing as you are under my control and my responsibility to command, you should really be sleeping on the floor,” Loki said thoughtfully, “But that does seem harsh and impractical. I’ll trip over you and you’ll be too stiff in the morning to be much use, and I’m sure your strength will be wanted. Even if it doesn’t compare to my magic.” The final part sent a shiver down Thor’s spine, which was made worse by the clear implication. Either they shared the bed, which was big enough to sleep two, or Thor could spend every night on the cold stone floor.

They had slept in the same bed when they were children, on occasion. They had been close then, with their fights always being over nothing in particular and easily forgiven. Thor had had fond memories of those nights, when they would lie nose to nose and talk about their days. He had never thought that anything would ever come between them, that they would be inseparable brothers for the rest of eternity. Now he wondered if Loki had ever truly loved him or if he had simply been too much of a fool to see the truth. Maybe Loki had always been scheming for his downfall, hating him and everything of Asgard. Waiting for his chance to seize control and destroy everything. Maybe everything he had been taught about the jotnar was correct, maybe it was just Loki that was twisted.

Thor seethed as Loki undressed and prepared himself for bed. A part of him almost preferred the idea of the floor rather than sleeping beside his snake of a brother. But at the same time he couldn’t bear Loki’s mocking laughter if he chose to sleep on the ground like a dog sleeping by his master’s bed. Thor would throw off Loki’s control of him, somehow. He would not be a slave to be used as Loki saw fit. He would not sleep on the floor but on the bed with Loki, knowing that he would take up Loki’s space, knowing that his snoring by Loki’s delicate ears would disrupt Loki’s sleep. It was nothing much in the grand scheme of things but it was the only power that Thor had available to him.

He looked sadly at the shards of mjölnir on the desk, the futility of the fight clear even to him. He had no weapon, no freedom. Hela and Loki were united against him and all of Asgard. Still he held hope that he would be able to break free, be able to kill them both even if there was little else he could do. He followed suit, undressing and climbing into the bed as Loki fussed about with the shards, as though subtly taunting Thor even though he no longer needed to do so subtly. He could do so openly with no fear of the consequences. Thor turned his head away, not wanting to watch Loki touching the remnants of the hammer he had been unworthy to wield.

Thor sprawled on the bed, taking up the vast majority of it. He could have quite easily have spread himself out less, ensuring that there would be room for Loki to sleep comfortably beside him, but he felt no particular desire to do so even though he imagined it would mean Loki would use magic to shock him and force him to shift to one side of their shared bed. He stretched even more, taking pleasure in the softness of the bed and the spaciousness of it, even if it was likely soon to change. He felt himself relax despite the awful day he’d had. He had never been one for stewing over the past. Softly he muttered a prayer for his father’s departed soul, keeping his voice down so Loki wouldn’t hear the whispered plea. He didn’t want to know what Loki thought of Odin’s death. He still blamed Loki, and he doubted that Loki would be wasting his time grieving over a father he had held little love for. He felt himself relax, and let himself drift to sleep, determined to ignore whatever it was Loki was doing, hovering in the corner with the shards of mjölnir as a cruel reminder of all that Thor had lost in such a short span of time.

Loki heard the low rumble that signified that Thor was asleep. He glanced across, noting with a degree of resigned irritation that Thor was taking up as much of the bed as was physically possible. He was exhausted and on edge himself, desperate to curl up in a ball and cry himself to sleep but he knew there was no such option available. He let the spell he was weaving drop unfinished, giving up on it. It was unlikely to work, was not holding onto the shards of mjölnir like he had hoped. It gave him hints and information but told him nothing he didn’t already know.

For a moment he let himself smile, a sad, bittersweet smile of nostalgia. There was something about the gentle hum of Thor snoring that made him feel at home. It took him back to when they had been children, safe and unconcerned by all the issues that plagued their adult lives. He had always gone to Thor at night for comfort, when they were supposed to be sleeping. He had always said that he was bored, that he couldn’t sleep, and demanded that Thor play a game with him. The kind of word game or something that could be done when they were lying in bed cuddled up together. Thor had always obliged, though the games had rarely lasted past one round before he rolled over to begin snoring like a gentle thunderstorm. Loki had been perfectly content with that, as he had never sought Thor out at night due to boredom no matter what he may have claimed. He had wanted comfort, the feeling of being wrapped up in his brother’s strength, something to keep him safe when he was afraid of something. It had often been Odin he had been afraid of. Sometimes it was nightmares, sometimes it was dark things he had read in books he wasn’t supposed to read, but mostly it had been their father’s temper.

In the darkness of the night, soothed by the constant, reliable rhythm of Thor’s snores, he had whispered his insecurities. He had confessed his feelings of inadequacy, his desperation to be considered equal to Thor. His hopes for the future and his fears. How he wished that Thor at the very least would acknowledge his magic as having some worth, even if he knew that Odin or those that pretended to be his friends but really were only kind to him out of pity and obligation to Thor never would. He’d tell Thor how much he loved him, how precious he was to him.

Safe in the knowledge that no one was listening, he’d spill out all his secrets, let his silver tongue tell the truth rather than the pretty lies he spun in the daylight. And always the only sound, the only response, was Thor’s snoring. Reliable, echoing through their bodies where they touched as well as filling the air with the promise of thunder. Loki would bury his face against Thor’s chest, breathing in the scent of his brother deeply and letting the vibrations move through him as well, as if they were one and the same. It had given him comfort, soothed away the worst of his fears even if Thor was entirely unaware of the level of comfort Loki drew from lying beside him.

Now he would once again be slinking into bed beside his brother, shoving at heavy limbs to make a small space for himself to curl up against hard muscle to the backing track of snores. Only it was different. He wanted to be able to rest his head on Thor’s chest, listen to his heartbeat combined with his snores, proof of how very alive Thor was even when he was asleep. He wanted to relax in a hug, knowing that he was protected and never alone.

But he was alone. He could no longer rely on Thor for protection. Thor no longer trusted him, and so Loki could no longer trust Thor. He could still feel the way Thor had gripped his neck, holding him firmly in mjölnir’s path. He hadn’t doubted that Thor would be willing to let him die had he not revealed himself.

He could remember the threats Thor had made, when they’d set out to fight Malekith. How he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Loki should he betray him, and Loki had betrayed him. Loki had faked his own death, had usurped Odin’s place on the throne and now kneelt to Hela. He still remembered the way that Thor had, after all his begging that he just wanted to bring Loki home and have everything return to how it had been, simply handed him over to Odin without any interest in mercy, without any suggestion of asking Loki why, without any hint of the brotherly affection he had spouted so eagerly. Loki remembered the endless hours alone in his prison, Thor only visiting him when he needed his help and then he had been clear that he no longer considered Loki his brother, that the love he had held for him was long gone.

Loki shoved gently at Thor, using a small hint of magic to help him in his task, to create just enough space for him to slip under the covers too. He sighed, trying to relax but unable to really feel at ease. He felt besieged by enemies, unable to let his guard down, but he knew that he needed to sleep so that he could plan. So that he could slip on the mask of confidence in the morning and keep the peace as best he could. All of Asgard was depending on his wits, even if they didn’t know it. 

They woke in the morning, as they had many times before. Loki woke in his own form for the first time in years. It was comforting to be back in his own skin, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. His magic was strong, and his ability to maintain a spell like the one that had allowed him to assume Odin’s form was good enough that it hadn’t been much of a strain, though he had always been slightly on edge. He had been careful to ensure he never slept where there was a chance someone might see him, just in case the spell should slip, though given that he had maintained his æsir form since discovering that it was not his true form he had doubted that there really was much risk. Rather, it seemed to serve as a reminder to him that he was to an extent unreal. A mask onto which the desires of others were painted. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but consider the form he was in - pale skin, lithe strength, green eyes and black hair - to be his real form. It was different from waking to the soft sunlight of an Asgardian morning, knowing that he was king of the realm, in total control of his own destiny.

Thor stretched languidly, pointedly ignoring Loki. He had spent a certain amount of his time away, touring the various corners of the galaxy on what now seemed to him to have been a wild goose chase designed to keep him distracted, missing the way the sun lit up the gold of Asgard. He had even missed it on Earth, even as he had enjoyed his time with his Midgardian friends. Fighting evil with them had kept him going, even after he believed Loki to be dead. It had made him feel like he was doing something worthwhile, that he was proving himself worthy beyond his father’s demands. Now he wondered if it hadn’t all just been a part of Loki’s plot. He wondered how long the plot had been going, how many of his decisions had truly been his own. Looking back, it now made perfect sense that Odin had been so keen to let him go continue as an Avenger rather than shoulder his responsibilities as a prince of Asgard, as it had not been Odin he had spoken to but Loki in disguise. He dreaded to think what might have happened to him had he decided to stay on Asgard and help his father rebuild. Really, after the deaths of Frigga and, as he had believed, Loki, that would have been the decision a good, worthy son and prince would have made. Instead he had returned to Earth and his mortal friends, where he could fight without having to face the responsibilities of rule. Could continue as he always had done.

And now, because Thor had shirked his responsibility and learnt nothing since he had been declared unworthy of being crowned king, he had allowed Odin to be parcelled off into a retirement home on Earth virtually under Thor’s very nose. Thor had been completely oblivious that while he had been cheerfully enjoying himself as an Avenger, fighting human enemies and concerning himself with their problems, while all the while Odin was so very close to where Avengers’ Tower was. Odin was there, Thor’s father and king, and Thor had been completely unaware. Had been too wrapped up in himself. In his grief over his mother and Loki, in his mortal friendships, in Jane. He felt like he had allowed it all to happen, that if he had stayed he might have averted this current catastrophe. That if he had been on Asgard he’d have spotted Loki’s lie, if he’d spotted Loki’s lie he could have recovered Odin. Maybe then Odin wouldn’t be dead and they wouldn’t have had Hela return with so little warning. Or maybe Loki would have done the same to him. Maybe to an extent Loki had, had influenced him enough to persuade him to leave without a second thought.

Loki dressed himself with a flick of magic, waiting impatiently for Thor to pull on his clothes manually. As he did so, he couldn’t help but feel angry about the situation. It felt like once again he was being made to suffer personally due to Odin’s inability to be a decent father, as evidenced by the way all three of his known children had turned out. Hela he had apparently raised for battle before having a change of heart, whereupon he discarded her, an attitude he had to admit he could understand as he had also met Hela and rather wished he hadn’t. Thor had been raised to be king without any seeming consideration as to the characteristics that might be desirable for a king to have, seeing as Odin had conversely seemed to have spent Thor’s childhood encouraging all of the traits that would make him an awful king and if Loki had been asked most of those traits just so happened to be the ones that Thor shared with Odin. Loki felt that his life would have been vastly improved if Odin had ever shown that he cared about him as a son, or if he’d been upfront about the adoption from the beginning. In fact, Loki had many complaints about the way Odin had parented him, but he especially felt buoyed on by the knowledge that it wasn’t just him that Odin had managed to be a bad parent to. Had it just been him, he might have lost himself stewing in self-hatred, trying to pick apart what it was about him that was unworthy just as he had when it became apparent that he would never be able to lift mjölnir.

A part of Loki wondered if there were other children hidden away in other worlds. He hoped not. He had been contend with having one brother and no further siblings. Even if at times things had been strained to the point of being enemies between him and Thor, Loki still loved him deep down. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have forced Thor to kneel with him. He wouldn’t have put so much effort into ensuring that Hela would spare Thor, that Thor would be bound in such a way that there was no way he could interfere with his plans or rouse Hela’s temper as her temper seemed to be permanently roused.

Reluctantly, Loki led them both from their new bedroom towards the council room. He was under no illusions. They had little choice but to present themselves. It was for the best, and at least as long as he was present he could perhaps work towards minimising the damage Hela might cause. He dreaded to think what might have happened had he not been there the previous day. The warriors might have attempted to fight Hela, and he imagined she would have wasted little time in killing them all. Loki had never really seen the point of slaughtering the entire realm he was hoping to rule, even at his most mad and power-hungry. Loki knew that he had to be careful or it could all end in disaster. 

Thor followed behind him, like a chained beast not tamed but restrained and eager to fight his captors. He doubted that Loki would give him an opening that would allow him to escape, not so soon after being bound, but he hoped there would be one. He was optimistic, that maybe Loki would spend time engrossed in magical texts just as he had when they were children, only this time around Thor would also do his best to read the books as well in the hopes of learning enough to undo the spells constricting him. He could feel them, like a serpent wound around him, holding him tight.

He wished Loki had died fighting Malekith like he had believed. An honourable death at the end of a dishonourable life.

Thor had been able to find peace in his grief, believing Loki gone. He had been able to put aside the bad Loki had done in favour of the sacrifice he had believed he had made to save Thor. Now that too seemed like a betrayal. His feelings had been nothing to Loki and perhaps they never had been. Just tools for him to play with, to manipulate for his own benefit. 

The council room was cold and empty. Odin had rarely paid much attention to his councillors, which in many ways had been very beneficial to Loki when he took over. Odin had ruled with an iron fist, accepting no opinion but his own. There was still a council room in addition to a throne room, as though the architecture too was playing a role in promoting the facade that Odin had been a just and generous king rather than a warmonger. Loki felt that he had at least done his best to ensure the comfort and safety of the people of Asgard, which was more than any rulers he had ever encountered.

Hela smiled her cold smile, which spoke of death and decay, of civilisations destroyed and crumbling ruins. Of the mourning left in her wake as the survivors envied their dead, crawling their way through life longing for the end. She gestured almost mockingly towards the table, offering Loki a seat seeing as he had elected himself to her council, offered himself and his silver tongue to bridge the issues of her succession of the throne seamlessly even though Hela might have preferred to have shed the blood of all those that opposed her. Loki had ensured no one did.

Loki took a seat slowly. Thor hovered, like a bodyguard, wishing death on both his siblings. Loki held him under his spell, keeping him from lifting his hands to attempt to carry out his wishes, leaving his desires impotently locked away in his head, his tongue held down to prevent even the power of speech. He wondered, for a brief moment, if that was how it always felt to be Loki - powerless in comparison with those around him. He flung it from his mind, not wanting to think anything that might make him sympathise with his brother or wonder about the fact that Loki’s powers were clearly enough to hold him frozen in place, frozen within his own body, even if it had been Hela that locked the spell in place.

Loki had often longed to in a position like this, where he was called upon to give his opinions and advice. He had been aware that Odin and Frigga had intended him to be Thor’s advisor when Thor was king, despite the fact that Thor was incapable of taking advice from anyone and that no one ever listened to Loki. Even when he had managed to make himself heard to the point that his ideas were taken on board, it was always after he had spoken them. He would struggle to make them listen to the end, the plan carefully laid out and dismissed, only sometimes someone else would take it, repeat his words verbatim to heralds of delight from all the others revelling in the genius for it was genius from anyone’s lips but Loki’s. 

He had never imagined that it could be like this, where he was being invited to be a councillor of sorts to the new Queen of Agard. It was a step down from pretending to be Odin, because at least then he had ruled by himself. But he had also ruled Asgard, and knew the state of the realm better than anyone else alive. Better than the dead too, for Loki knew that he had been more in tune with Asgard than Odin had been. He supposed his only competition was Heimdall, but he didn’t know where Heimdall was. Hiding away in the forests, sheltering those that had fled while he was convincing the people of Asgard to kneel before their new, rightful Queen. Heimdall had always claimed to be completely loyal to the crown, but in reality Loki knew he wasn’t. He was loyal to Asgard itself, to the ground beneath them, the rainbow of the Bifrost and the all the people that made it more than just a place.

Thor didn’t bother listening as Loki talked through something to do with finance. He imagined Hela must be as bored as him, but somehow Loki managed to keep her attention. Hela hadn’t had Thor’s long years of learning to ignore Loki’s ceaseless chatter and never-ending rambling. Hela didn’t know how to zone him out, how to ignore his pointless words. Thor did. Thor knew Loki spoke of nothing. His words were as empty as his promises, neither having honour or value. It was best to pay no attention to whatever Loki might say. For a brief moment, when he was alone on Midgard without his powers, Thor had regretted that, had wondered if he had missed something and had wronged Loki somehow. It hadn’t lasted, as Loki had shown himself again and again to be corrupted and cruel, evil beyond anything Thor could have imagined. He wondered if he had missed that, the descent into evil, or if it had always been there hidden beneath Loki’s talent for lying. Mischief coating evil, malevolent chaos with a more pleasant mask until he had abandoned it in favour of the truth of his depravity.

“That realm,” Hela was saying, “The one where Odin died. We should invade it, lay waste to all that is there.”

Thor struggled against the magic that bound him, wanting to scream his rage. His friend were there. Even if it had all ended, he still cared about Jane. He even cared about the many more, nameless and faceless, Midgardians who populated the world. Now Hela was offering Loki an opportunity for a second attempt at destroying the world, and the Hulk had left Earth.

“Midgard?” Loki asked, almost bored, his magic constricting around Thor to hold him even tighter, “I suppose. I would have thought you would have preferred to set your sights on Jotenheim first. The one realm Odin couldn’t conquer. Asgard has hated the jotnar for centuries, so your army would be more than willing and a willing army is always the best. Fuelled on by victory and the taste for blood, they will be delighted to march on Midgard afterwards and then… Well, we’ll just have to start searching for more worlds to conquer.”

“Hmmm…” Hela said, looking at him suspiciously, but she leaned back with a thoughtful expression and Thor felt a wave of relief rush through him. Loki must be still afraid of the Avengers, even if he wouldn’t admit it. His logic made sense even to Thor and Thor could see that Hela was already looking forward to the moment when they slaughtered every last jötunn. He himself would almost have been excited by the prospect, but he no longer sought total annihilation for whole realms. The only jötunn he wanted dead was the one sitting smugly in æsir form, cheerfully plotting the destruction of the entire realm for Hela’s glory. At least it would be a battle, not the clinical execution Loki had attempted before when he weaponised the Bifrost, but still it made Thor’s skin crawl to hear their plans for starting training exercises that would prepare the warriors for battle, as well as the tactical considerations for a war in the cold.

Thor had to admit that despite the circumstances, he did feel some satisfaction at seeing the warriors train. He trained with them, though that added some complications that reminded him that everything on Asgard was no longer the way it had always been. Before he had enjoyed training with Sif and the Warriors Three. Now Sif was gone, and he had received no explanation as to where or why. His imagination had run riot, and he had concluded rather miserably that Loki had had her killed. It made all of their childhood, which Thor had always regarded as being happy, seem darker with hindsight. He had always thought that they had all been such good friends, only now it was clear to him that Loki had never truly felt the same way. That hurt.

He had hoped beyond hope when he had first heard the mention of it that he might be sent to train with the warriors if nothing else, though in practice it was a double-edged sword. He had no real hopes that any of his friends would be able to free him, as not even Sif had been skilled when it came to magic. That gift had always been Loki’s and Loki’s alone, and Loki was, as always, the root of the problem.

Training with the Warriors Three also pained him as he could no longer speak plainly and freely with them. Loki’s magic bound his tongue, and he had never before appreciated the power of free speech more. Now he understood why Steve had waxed lyrical about it on occasion. He couldn’t tell them the truth, so they believed what they had been told without question, accepting Hela as their new Queen. In some ways, it meant he preferred to spend his time training with those he felt no desire to talk to, focusing merely on the mechanics of his body as well as the arduous task of learning how to fight without mjölnir again. No other weapon compared.

He was never alone, of course. He could always feel Loki. More often than not Loki was there as well, overseeing it all and occasionally even deigning to spar a little himself. Hela’s presence seemed to be a new constant of Asgard, her essence in everything ensuring he could never forget that he was entirely at her mercy.

Thor had always liked honing his skills as a warrior, just as he had always enjoyed the thrill and honour of battle. The realisation that Loki had, under his guise of Odin, withdrawn the warriors from the varying outposts of the other realms letting Asgard’s rule crumble horrified him. The idea that maybe those realms had not been saved from tyrants by Odin’s kindness and talent on the battlefield but rather colonised by force under Odin and Hela was not one he wanted to think about too much. Loki had been perfectly happy to allow Hela to believe that it had been under Odin’s rule that the other realms had been lost, and seeing as he had been disguised as Odin there was no one except Thor who might tell her otherwise. After all, no one knew for definite when it was Odin had been replaced. Only, Thor couldn’t tell Hela even if he did want to, just to get a small amount of petty revenge on Loki, as it was Loki’s power that held him bound in place, silencing him.

He supposed it made him see everything from Loki’s perspective far better now, as he too would happily take the option of petty revenge with no real reason except the desire to see Loki suffer even if he couldn’t harm Hela. A part of him wondered if Loki’s death might mean his own freedom, so if Hela killed him in anger Thor could attempt to kill her, even though he knew he had no chance. He no longer had mjölnir and he had seen her in action.

She reminded him of Odin.

That thought lingered through his brief respite of training, before being unceremoniously yanked back to playing the role of subservience, following Loki like a muzzled dog, standing by as Hela and Loki discussed the destruction of the nine realms Thor had once sworn to protect. 

“He’s adopted, right?” Hela asked into the echoing emptiness of the council chamber, cold and desolate as always. Her question was directed towards Loki, her expression bored as she glanced at Thor. Thor didn’t like the idea of her being bored any more than he liked sharing a bed with his snake of a brother. 

“I’m adopted,” Loki corrected patiently, though Thor doubted that Hela really cared about such details. As far as he could tell, she didn’t care about anything. Thor struggled to believe that they were related. The fact that he and Loki at least shared no blood was a cold comfort. He couldn’t blame her. He looked nothing like them, was nothing like them. They looked the same and dressed the same. Black hair, green eyes. Black and green clothes. Sadistic and cruel. He wondered if Hela wasn’t like Loki, a mistake that Odin had kindly picked up and raised as his own before realising the evil he had allowed into his home, though had that been the case he should have known better than to take Loki back with him. Thor liked that explanation. Odin had only told Loki the truth when his hand was forced, after all, and still considered him to be his son despite everything. He could hope that it was the truth, that Odin had simply never had need to tell Hela she was adopted. 

“You aren’t brothers,” Hela continued dismissively, “So entertain me. Kiss.”

Thor might have agreed that he no longer regarded Loki as being his brother, there were far too many betrayals between them for that. His forgiveness was all used up, dried out and exhausted. But still the idea filled him with revulsion, not so much because they had been raised as brothers but because of the bad feelings that now festered within him, locked inside with magic that gave him no choice in the matter. The denial of their brotherhood was only an echo of the claim Loki had made again and again but Thor could still see a faint hint of discomfort in his eyes even as he moved forward to do as he was told, the binding magic holding Thor in place and unable to object. That at least was a source of comfort to Thor as Loki’s lips touched his, cold and controlling. Loki too was a pawn, being used for Hela’s pleasure. Loki wanted this as little as Thor did, perhaps even less.

Thor bit at Loki’s tongue, a small piece of violence against Loki that was allowed to him, as while his intention was to harm it would look like nothing but a touch of passion to Hela. The sort of thing that Thor could imagine she liked, even if Loki didn’t. Loki continued the kiss, giving no visible reaction but Thor could feel a hint of a tremor in his body, something barely noticeable but Thor had known him centuries.

Loki withdrew, the kiss over and his expression as blank as ever. Hela smiled, her smile as cruel as it always was. Thor licked his lips, hating the sensation of having been touched by Loki almost as much as he took pleasure in knowing that Loki had suffered. It made his own discomfort less, easing the strangeness of the kiss to give it a power that Thor held on to, as there was little else left to him. He savoured the flash of unease that had briefly shown in Loki’s eyes, drawing strength from that moment. 

Thor took out as much of his rage as he could on the training grounds. Sadly, imagining that inanimate objects were Loki or Hela did no harm to the actual people, and imagining that other warriors were them risked causing injury to innocents. Thor injured a few innocents. It was a part of being a warrior, and it meant they probably weren’t fit for battle anyway. They would have fallen fighting the jotnar or the vanir or whatever realm it was they invaded in whatever order. Thor didn’t like listening to Loki and Hela drawing up the plans any more than he liked the reminder that Loki had left those realms to fend for themselves, to struggle on independently rather than sheltering them under the might of Asgard’s force. That they paid tribute in exchange for protection and Asgardian support for the rulers was a fair exchange, as far as Thor knew. Far better than collapsing into chaos and in-fighting to establish some alternative to the system Odin had created for their protection.

Back in their rooms, he took up residence in the bathroom, leaving Loki tinkering about with the shards of mjölnir that lay on the desk as a cruel reminder. Thor was certain that he kept them just to remind Thor how far and how fast he had fallen, from worthy warrior and crown prince of Asgard to enslaved puppet of his sadistic siblings. It was all Loki ever did, when they were alone in their rooms together. Fiddled with magic and mjölnir, ignoring Thor as best he could in the rooms that were slightly too small for two, especially when the two were so much at odds as Loki and Thor were.

Thor wanted the peace of being alone, even if he wasn’t really alone. Loki was merely in the room behind the feeble door that either of them could easily break down, and his magic still clung to Thor like a virulent plague. He could almost feel it on his skin, a disgusting sense of always being unclean, but it had dripped deeper, soaking his very bones. He wondered if he would ever be free, if he would ever feel clean again. He washed himself, taking simple pleasure in that. In soaking in the hot water even if the sensations that permeated his body and soul couldn’t be washed away. The sweat and aches of a hard training session could be, and he was doing what he could with what he had.

He could lie back, his head resting against the edge of the bath that was smaller than the one he had always used when he was in his previous rooms that were designed for a prince rather than these ones chosen deliberately to be substandard. The bath was even smaller than the one that Tony had given him in Avengers’ Tower, as Tony knew how to make things luxurious and had figured out that Thor sometimes struggled to find Midgardian things that fit him properly.

He sighed as he stretched out, allowing all his muscles to relax despite Loki being too close for comfort. He ran a gentle hand across his chest and down his stomach, raising his fingers thoughtfully to his lips. At least he had himself, and his body, even if it was currently bound in servitude. At least Loki was almost as much the victim of Hela’s whims as Thor, possibly even more so. Hela mostly ignored him, having dismissed him as irrelevant once he was subjugated under Loki’s spell. Loki had disliked their shared kiss as much as Thor. More, even. Thor wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that, as he knew he was both attractive in looks and personality. What he did know for certain was that he took a certain amount of pleasure from knowing that there was something he held over Loki, something that made Loki as miserable as himself. He didn’t hold much hope that Loki would be inspired to change him mind and set him free, ideally vanquishing himself and Hela at the same time, but at least it gave him something to take some pleasure in.

He stroked his hand downwards, running his fingers over his cock. Release would be good, no matter what kind. Even if it wasn’t quite the release of smashing his siblings’ skulls open on the dais before the throne, it would still do him some good. He stroked firmly, familiar movements with an unfamiliar sensation. A sense of pressure, just as there should be, building up before it spilled out of him leaving him at peace at least for a little while. Only the pressure was wrong. He could feel it inside him, but he could also feel Loki’s magic binding him, pressing down on everything. His tongue he had noticed before, the pressure that held that down he had felt time and time again, Loki applying and relaxing that element as he pleased. He had not noticed the clamping over his cock before.

Thor growled lightly, irritated. Wet and frustrated, he got out of the bath, drying himself haphazardly with little care. He slammed the door open, glad that the sudden violence made Loki jump slightly, turning to stare at him with startled eyes. Thor liked that look of fear. It was the way it should be. Loki should be afraid of him, afraid of the vengeance that awaited once Thor managed to somehow free himself.

“Loki,” he growled deeply, not caring that he was naked, “Must you bind me so tightly?” If anything, he took a certain pleasure from knowing that his lack of clothing or shame was likely adding to Loki’s discomfort. Loki stared at him in confusion for a moment, his eyes desperately focusing on Thor’s face and so it took him longer than it maybe should have to gather Thor’s meaning.

“Sorry,” he gulped, and Thor felt the magic loosen slightly. It was still there, constricting him like a venomous snake waiting to pounce, but it had shifted slightly. Just enough.

Thor could easily have turned round and returned to the bathroom, back to the comfort of being alone in a bath and able to pretend to himself that he had some semblance of hope for Asgard’s future. He could have grumpily dragged on his pyjamas and lain sprawled across the bed, knowing that he would be making life uncomfortable for Loki even as he did something so simple and banal as sleep. Instead he did neither, walking across the room leaving a splattering of water droplets in his wake but not caring in the slightest.

He flung himself naked onto the bed, taking a degree of pleasure in the discomfort he was causing Loki and the way that his wet hair was dampening the sheets they would both share later on. Thor had no particular desire to sleep in a wet bed, but he would bear it if it meant Loki did too, though he knew that Loki would dry the sheets and Thor with magic. If nothing else, it would mean Loki would have to make extra effort, another minor irritation for him to deal with, and that was a plus in Thor’s book.

He shuffled, spreading around the splashes of water and managing to position himself so that his balls were resting on the pillow that Loki had slept on the night before. The kind of thing that even spells couldn’t quite wash away, the lingering memory haunting after all traces had been removed. He looked over at Loki as he reached his hand back down to grasp his cock, now free to harden properly, playing with it.

Loki hunched over, almost deliberately avoiding looking over at Thor though Thor knew that he knew exactly what Thor was doing. As he stroked himself with little in the way of romance but rather a savage desire for revenge, Thor wondered if Loki could feel him through the magic that was tangled around his body. Wondered if Loki was feeling this along with him as well as hearing the steady rhythm of flesh on flesh and Thor’s breathing growing more ragged.

Thor came deliberately on Loki’s pyjamas, wiping himself clean with them and dumping them beside him to be Loki’s problem to deal with. He felt relaxed, even though there was no real reason to really be properly relaxed. Little had changed, just a slight sense of relief. That and the creeping joy of having found a way to strike back at Loki that he could use. It was not a method Thor would have chosen ordinarily, as he had always favoured honourable and straightforward attacks, but Loki had left him with little alternatives so he was going to use a Loki-esque method. 

Loki blinked away tears, trying to focus on the shards of mjölnir and the theoretical spells inside his mind. Trying to block everything else out. Trying to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing, that his actions were saving lives. Asgardian lives. Asgard itself. Tentatively touching the spells binding Thor to ensure that they were strong enough to hold him but not overly repressive as they had accidentally been. Even if he couldn’t quite imagine how Thor could think of something like that when there was so much on Loki’s mind, yet at the same time knowing that Thor was so very different from him. Different in ways that for so long Loki had envied and adored in equal measures. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head and forcing himself to dismiss every thought that did not centre on mjölnir. 

Thor woke alone, the bed exactly as he had left it. He sat up, looking round half expecting to see Loki asleep on a better bed, crafted through magic. Loki was still asleep, but curled up in the wooden chair, his head resting on his arms on the wooden desk, surrounded by the mjölnir shards. For a brief moment, Thor felt a hint of soft nostalgia fill him, trickling from his heart through his veins. He had seen Loki asleep at desks plenty of times before, studying late into the night and falling asleep in the library where Thor would scoop him up and carry him to his bed. This was different though, and it didn’t take long for the nostalgia to crystallise and harden to hatred. Now he wondered how much of that studying Loki had done had been working towards evil, stretching his capacity for malevolence until there was no hint of any goodness left inside him.

Thor dressed himself noisily, not minding that he was waking Loki. Loki had to wake up anyway, though a part of him was entertained by the idea of creeping out and leaving Loki to sleep in the hopes that Hela would be angry with him for not attending to her. He suspected that it was futile. He knew he couldn’t get far from Loki, the magic restraining him like a chain binding them together. It was rather like how he had always been connected to mjölnir, only he had been the one in control of that relationship. He had been able to summon and wield mjölnir at will. Now he suspected that Loki could summon and wield him at will.

Loki stretched uncomfortably. Every part of him hurt. He should have known better than to allow himself to fall asleep on the desk. He should have known that he couldn’t risk allowing Thor’s pettiness to get to him, as then it would interfere with him getting a decent amount of sleep and that affected his mind. His mind was the most important part of him. He needed his brain to be working at maximum capacity. He needed to plot and plan as he had never done before. There was simply too much riding on it. Too much riding on his ability to think and weave magic.

Thor felt a slight smile play over his lips at the sight of Loki shifting and flexing what were presumably painful and stiff muscles. It didn’t really matter what Loki did to freshen up, he looked drawn and pale. Thor had never really put much effort into his own appearance, knowing that he was naturally handsome and his charms shone best in a more rugged and effortless manner. Loki had often bothered to style his hair and clothing to best flatter himself, which Thor supposed was due to him lacking the sort of muscle you earned through honest training rather than convoluted magic that was really no better than cheating. It was strange to see Loki not bothering more than the basic necessities required, but it also gave him a degree of pleasure. It meant that no matter that it might have been entirely Loki’s fault that they were in the mess they were in, but still Loki was suffering along with him. Loki might have betrayed him and all of Asgard, but he was paying for his betrayal. He was as caught in the clutches of Hela as Thor was, and Thor had found a way to make Loki suffer. Thor couldn’t know for certain, but he suspected he had played a role in Loki’s bad night and that meant despite the situation he did have some power over Loki still. Maybe not Hela, but he would take what he could.

Back in Hela’s presence in the cold council room, Thor felt a shiver pass through him. She unnerved him. He wished he could simply strike her down, but instead she had crushed mjölnir as thought it was nothing. He swallowed, glad at least that he didn’t have to interact with her. Her focus was on Loki, Thor was just there as bound, dumb muscle. Hovering in the background, seething and plotting as best he could even though he knew he had a long way to go before he could match Loki for deviousness. He had too much moral fibre and goodness to ever sink to that level. He hoped that he would not be confined for long enough to test that theory.

“You look tired,” Hela said bluntly to Loki. There was no warmth, no care to it. It was not an older sister worrying about the wellbeing of her younger brother but rather an evil Queen mocking the misfortune of her indentured slave. She gave Thor a quick glance, and Thor felt that he could see disgust on her face. He suspected that she was incapable of any feelings that were in any way good.

“I’m fine,” Loki said firmly, though it was not as convincing as many of his other lies had been. Any other time he might have erected a glamour to hide the stress shown on his face but he was loathe to waste any magic he didn’t absolutely need to use. 

Hela sneered at him, unimpressed. Thor could agree with that assessment. She looked at him, and a twisted smile made itself known. 

“Maybe you just need a pick-me-up?” she all but purred, a sickly sweet idea of caring coating her tones but failing to hide the cruel amusement underneath, “Something to make you feel better. Can’t have my brother feeling down, after all.” 

She looked at Thor, her eyes as green as Loki’s and Thor hated the reminder that he’d once quite liked Loki’s eyes. He’d liked the way they seemed to be so full of life and mischief, back before he’d realised that the mischief merely hid cruelty and evil. That every kind word Loki had ever uttered was a lie. It was clear now that Hela and Loki stood side by side, they were birds of a feather and Thor was nothing like them.

“Suck his dick,” Hela commanded casually, spreading the map of Yggdrasil out on the table between her and Loki. Loki flinched almost imperceptibly. Thor froze. “Go on,” Hela said, glancing up at him with an expression that gave little hint of mercy, “Entertain me, make him perk up. Serve a purpose instead of standing there uselessly.”

For a long moment, Thor did precisely nothing. He barely even breathed. Then he felt a stirring of what he assumed was Hela’s magic that seemed to fill the room with an ominous sensation, only to be quickly replaced by Loki’s now familiar magic tightening around him, the snake pushing him forward towards where Loki sat.

It was not dignified for a prince of Asgard to kneel on the dirty floor, but Thor had little regard for his dignity anymore. There were more important things, like revenge. Revenge and surviving long enough to exact his revenge. There was no one to witness it, anyway. No one but Hela and Loki, and to Thor they no longer really counted as people.

He could feel Loki’s magic hesitating around him, as though Loki’s resolve was weak, reminding Thor that Loki would hate this just as much as him. Possibly more even. So he reached forward to unlace Loki’s trousers without needing any magic to prod him forward. Loki flinched slightly, as though being semi-stripped and fondled in a semi-public place was not to his liking, but he remained stiffly seated, ignoring Thor to talk over the invasion plans with Hela.

Exposed to the world, Loki was distinctly limp. Thor decided to take that as an insult. He supposed it could have reflected well on Loki, to suggest that he wasn’t particularly turned on by forcing his adopted brother to perform oral sex on him while he talked strategy with their sister, but Thor wasn’t in the mood for being charitable in his interpretations. He chose to take it as a personal slight against his attractiveness and his character. Thor felt his pride rise, even if Loki’s cock had little interest in doing the same.

Possibly in an alternative universe, he might have sat with his father discussing battle strategies and plans for wars. He had definitely had a few conversations like that with his father, but he had never fully graduated to having total responsibility. Thor ignored those thought, ignored the part of him that was impressed with Hela’s bloodlust and the way that Loki carefully tempered it to spin a tale of future victories. Loki had attempted to limit him too many times in his life for Thor to like listening to his silver tongue. He focused on his own tongue instead, flicking it out and revelling in the way that Loki seemed to shift backwards as though he wanted to leap up and flee but he was even more a prisoner than Thor, held in place by his own lying ways and now trapped by Thor’s tongue teasing him to a reluctant hardness. 

Thor focused on his anger and hatred as he swallowed Loki down. He let the tension in Loki’s body and the vulnerability of the position fuel him, knowing that Loki was gaining no real pleasure from Thor’s ministrations. He was tempted to bite, but he knew that Loki’s magic prevented him from hurting him. So instead he sucked and licked, hands firm on Loki’s thighs to hold him down as though there was a chance Loki’s resolve might finally break and have him rush from the room. It wasn’t much, on his knees choking savagely on his brother’s cock, but Thor felt strangely powerful. He felt like he was in control, able to torment and torture Loki with his tongue when for centuries Loki had been the one to tangle him up with torture and torment with his tongue. Now the tables had been turned, Thor was the one beneath Loki but he had his tongue to level the playing field, just as Loki had used his to his advantage.

Loki trembled, his voice holding steady and his eyes firmly fixed on the map. His attention on Hela, he tried to focus on not falling apart. On not letting the entire facade drop and shatter to pieces. On not pushing Thor away and fleeing, leaving the family he shared no blood with and the realm had no obligation to beyond that it had raised him. It was a blessed relief when he finally came, the futile hope that Thor would move away and leave him even if he couldn’t himself leave. Hela continued speaking, not paying any attention except to indicate her displeasure when he sought to have Thor stand, to return to standing or just being anywhere than on his knees between Loki’s spread legs. 

Thor rested his head on Loki’s thigh. It wasn’t comfortable for him, but the fact that it was uncomfortable for Loki too made up for that. Content, he stayed there, drooling ever so slightly on Loki’s trousers as though he was a guard dog at his master’s feet only he drew strength from the discomfort of Loki beneath him even as Loki’s voice continued to drone on without pause, the council without end. 

Loki slept in their bed that night, though he didn’t get much sleep. Thor took up most of the bed as he always did. Loki had been mildly relieved when Thor had laid down in his pyjamas, lounging there but doing nothing more than watch Loki. That was something Loki could ignore as he muttered his spells and prodded at the shards of mjölnir, certain that he was going insane. Even if he hadn’t already been mad, there was no way his sanity could survive this incessant stress. The futility of fiddling with a spell that was probably hopeless. It would have been easier without Thor gazing at him, licking his lips and sighing. It made him remember Thor on his knees, his mouth on Loki’s cock. It made him remember the way Thor had stroked himself the night before.

He wished for some privacy, where he could concentrate without the constant sense of Thor being there at the edge of his consciousness, but he would be able to sense Thor anywhere. He had at least felt relief that Thor had said or done nothing, not that there was much he could say or do. The magic restricted him, though Loki had no wish to waste effort on restricting him completely. He could suffer through Thor’s little tantrums like coming all over his pyjamas and gazing across the room as though he was stripping Loki with his eyes. At least Loki could feel some relief that he wasn’t actively crossing the room and stripping him with his hands. Then Loki would have had to chose. Chose between attempting to physically best his brother when he’d never before managed it or waste magic he couldn’t spare in forcing Thor away. Or choosing to lay back and think of Asgard, relaxing to make it easier on himself, letting his body fall limp as his mind wandered through the complex spell he was trying to craft.

Thor had stayed on the bed, and eventually Loki had had the common sense to join him, curled up as small as he could manage. It was still more comfortable than the chair and desk, though Loki began to reconsider his assessment when he realised that Thor had been waiting patiently for Loki to join him in bed. It might have been dark, but Loki could still hear, just like the night before even if he averted his eyes he had been able to hear. Only lying next to Thor he could feel as well.

He could feel Thor shifting, pressing their bodies together, effectively trapping Loki unless he wanted to use magic to push Thor away. The magic binding Thor under him only prevented Thor from harming him, but weighing him down with his strength and using the blanket to trap Loki’s limbs didn’t count as harm. Merely discomfort. An arm in a mocking imitation of a hug, wrapping the blanket round him and holding him still. A leg slung over Loki’s, pressing their bodies together. Loki struggled briefly, more as a show of his desire to escape than an actual attempt. After all, what could he do if he did manage to wriggle out of the bed? Run to lock himself in the bathroom, sleep there and have Hela comment again the next day that maybe he needed another pick me up? He shuddered to think of it. Or flee the room entirely, run to the Bifrost or simply use his own skills to slip away from Asgard down the branches of Yggdrasil to somewhere that was far from his adopted family and adopted realm. He hated all that was within him that kept him there.

He could probably even drag Thor with him. Drag Thor away using the magic that subjugated him, and then they’d be in the same position only without a bed to sleep in. He let himself go limp, keeping his eyes closed. Hoping that he might just be exhausted enough to fall asleep no matter what Thor was doing.

Loki could feel the firmness of Thor’s cock pressed against the back of his thighs through the far too thin blanket. He could feel Thor’s hands, strong and made for battle, stroking it to full hardness, the pressure against his skin increasing. Sometimes Thor’s hands stroked onto Loki, though that was through multiple layers of fabric. Loki could still feel it, just like he could feel the heat of Thor’s body against his own. Just like he could feel Thor’s warm breath against his ear, hear the soft hitches in this breath. Hear him whisper, “Loki…”

A part of Thor was impressed that Loki was letting him get away with so much. Loki’s eyes were desperately closed, his misery clear even in the darkness of the night. Thor bit at his earlobe, just to force a reaction from him. Loki sobbed slightly, his eyes opening briefly and Thor could feel a shudder running though his body. He pressed his cock against Loki as he stroked it, enjoying the additional sensation of brushing against Loki’s body, even if it was through the blanket.

Loki heard Thor when he came, gasping in his ear, the sound filling his world but not quite enough to drown out the slap of flesh on flesh. He felt it too, the pulsing of Thor’s cock against his thighs and the spreading wetness seeping through the blanket and his new pyjamas onto his skin. Wet and warm, which would dry into cold and sticky if he slept as he was, tangled up with it covering his thighs.

Thor wriggled slightly, and for a moment Loki thought he might roll over and release him, but instead he drew him closer. Almost as though he was daring Loki to use his magic to clean them up rather than risk Loki simply tossing all the dirty linens to the floor and sleeping without the blanket, fetching new pyjamas. He would run out of pyjamas eventually. He wanted nothing more than to burn them, never again have them touch his flesh, but there was no such choice easily available to him.

Grudgingly, hating the waste of power, Loki cleaned away Thor’s cum with magic, using as little power as possible. It didn’t matter, in a way. He could still feel it against his skin, could still feel the warm wetness dripping over him, spreading over every inch of him, saturating him. He wanted to rush to the bathroom and wash himself, scrub every last trace away, but it had already been magicked away and there were no traced remaining. It was all just in his head, the feeling of being irreparably dirty, covered in filth that could never be removed. That was what it meant to be Loki. He understood that now.

Morning came far too early for both Thor and Loki. As they dressed in silence, it occurred to Thor that they effectively hadn’t exchanged a single word since Loki had forced them both to their knees. Not together. Their last conversation had been standing in front of the building Loki had left Odin in, watching it be demolished. After that, it had been nothing really. Not true conversation. Loki had been silent in Odin’s presence, then far too quick to surrender in Hela’s. Loki had lifted the clamp from his tongue, only applying it when he feared Thor might say something to anger Hela, but in their room where it was just the two of them he left it be. Left Thor his tongue, though Thor didn’t use it. He had found a better organ with which to torment Loki. Loki could ignore his words with ease and he knew that in that field he would never beat him. Could never hope to discover the chink in his armour. Thor had always been a man of action not words, it was his body with which he won battles not his tongue. He was different from Loki, even if circumstances had forced him to use techniques that seemed far to close to ones that Loki might turn to for Thor’s comfort. He blamed Loki, for forcing his hand. 

He knew that it would be a day of the same pattern as the preceding ones. Time in the council room, standing in silence allowing Hela to direct him as her and Loki plotted the destruction of all the realms, maybe a chance to fight on the practice grounds afterwards. He couldn’t see much hope for variation or liberty, just the hope that he might continue to irritate Loki. Make his life as miserable as Loki had made him. Even if it did bring him uncomfortably close to wondering if his life, trapped in silence with no real power except as a prince to be shown off in front of the people, was similar to the one Loki had experienced when they was younger. Only it wasn’t, he could tell himself, as Odin may have had his flaws but he was nothing like as bad as Hela, and Loki had been perfectly free as far as Thor could remember. 

“Having him hover in the background is most off-putting,” Hela murmured, giving Thor a glance. The council room was as cold and empty as always. Thor wondered if there would be a repeat of the day before. He didn’t relish it, but he did relish the hint of tears that he had sworn he had seen in Loki’s eyes. Thor stood behind Loki, quietly waiting. 

“He could sit?” Loki suggested carefully, unwilling to have Thor send away from his side. It was a strain and an extra thing to worry about.

“Yes…” Hela said, “He could sit, and you on him. I imagine he would make a good chair. Solid and silent.” 

Loki swallowed before nodding his understanding. Slowly, he stood up, vacating his chair. Hela looked at Thor. “Sit,” she commanded simply. Thor stepped forward, sitting down. He wished he wasn’t, as it felt uncomfortably like he was being involved in the council. He wanted nothing to do with Hela or Loki. There was no other option, though. 

Hela gestured to Thor, as though inviting Loki to take his seat. As though the seat was unoccupied. With great reluctance, Loki sat down on Thor’s lap wishing that he was sitting on a chair and not his brother. He shifted, almost without meaning to, wriggling to find a position that was almost comfortable enough that he could attempt to concentrate on the job at hand.

Thor let Loki sit on him as though he was nothing but a piece of furniture. It felt rather fitting, as that was how he was treated by Hela. An accessory of Loki’s to be used for her entertainment. He could feel Loki on him, and wrapped his arms around his waist to help steady him. To hold him close in a reminder of his own physical strength, even if it was ultimately impotent against Loki’s control.

Loki tried to ignore the mockery of an embrace, concentrating on Hela and the maps before him. He tried to ignore her amused smile, as though it gave her pleasure to watch them. He was just grateful that it was nothing more than sitting on Thor as though he was a chair. At least it was far better than the previous day, as far as he was concerned. He just dreaded what it might be leading up to. He felt a desperate desire to run away, and for a moment it was as though Thor’s arms were the only thing really holding him in place.

Thor ignored the conversation. He knew that he would just end up being drawn into the tactics, and then he would attempt to talk and then Loki’s magic would tangle itself around his tongue. Rather than that, he focused on Loki. Loki who was far too thin. Loki had always been too thin in Thor’s opinion, focusing on his mind rather than building up his body. Now he could feel Loki’s body pressing against him, even if Loki was trying to lean forward out of the embrace. Thor gave him no such option, holding them together like he had pressed them together the night before. With a steely resolve, he thought of that. He remembered how it had felt to stroke his own cock, pressed hard against Loki’s thighs. He remembered Loki’s discomfort and the way he had been trapped as hopelessly as Loki had trapped him under his spell. Slowly, inch by inch, he began to harden out of spite. 

Loki shifted uncomfortably, as though trying to move position and escape, but there was no such option. Not under Hela’s amused gaze, reminding them both that they existed to entertain her, not to be themselves. He could feel the hard shape of Thor’s cock pressing into him, just as he could feel Thor’s breath warm and steady on the back of his neck. He knew that the meeting would feel like it might last forever, but they always did with Hela. At least it was better than it could be. Somehow he felt relieved by that, there just being a firm, hard reminder pushing against him rather than anything more. Rather than exhibitions put on for Hela’s enjoyment, something easier to ignore if it wasn’t for the memories of every other act accumulating and adding together to weigh on his mind.

As though he could read Loki’s mind, or maybe just his body language, Thor’s hand started to stroke gently at Loki’s thigh. A mocking imitation of a tender caress, strong and experienced fingers running up and down tense muscles, an unwanted massage waiting to happen. Every time his hand came close enough to brush at Loki’s cock, safely hidden by layers of fabric, Thor felt a thrill of satisfaction at the way Loki tensed. At the way Loki tried so feebly and desperately to hide his flinching. The squirming that sought to wriggle away from Thor’s lazy strokes but only served to have him grinding on Thor’s hard cock, trapped between the two.

Loki focused on the maps, and more than that Hela’s words. Her impatience. Her blood lust and need for war. For death. The inevitability of the invasion that they were planning, the countdown to deployment ticking away in the back go his mind. The need to act when there was nothing he could do but sit as still as possible, abandon his body to its functions, leaving it to be played with by Thor who dominated in the physical realm. Ignore Thor’s hot breath on the back of his neck, the scratch of his beard against his skin. Powerless and helpless, unable to stand as an equal with the children of Odin. Knowing that he had crafted his own personal torment, that he had chosen to kneel and that he held his decision to be the right one even as he suffered. Even as he wished he had simply let Thor die by Hela’s hand, fled alone and abandoned everything. He had survived before, he could survive again. Alone and lost. Free.

The meeting dragged in for eternity as meetings always did, Thor subsuming him in every way as Loki let himself drown in the planned genocide he himself had already attempted. Let the rest of the day wash over him as Thor remained always a constant presence in his mind when he wasn’t taking advantage of their proximity to imprint himself on his body as well.

Thor might have been worried about Loki had he still cared. Had they still been brothers bound by love rather than enemies bound by magic. Loki was distracted, lost inside his own mind. Thor knew he had played a part in chasing Loki there, saw it as a victory. A victory in a new form of war, one he had never before needed to wage, but still he had forced his enemy to retreat, to flee from him. It was a start, a promising beginning to a long campaign.

He lay down on their bed, lounging as he watched Loki playing with the shards of mjölnir. The small room offering little distance between them but also he could feel the gulf. The galaxies and eternities that existed between them, beings in different sets of realities. Thor did his best to ignore any weak feelings of nostalgia of when they had been young. Dismissing it as nothing but an illusion, a false tale woven by Loki. Instead he hardened his heart as his cock had hardened on command, resolving to do whatever it might take to bring down Loki and Hela. To start with Loki, to wear him down and destroy him. To wrest control of Asgard back from them, the evil usurpers, and save the realm. To fulfil his duty to the kingdom that was rightfully his.

It was boring, but he kept his eyes open. Sleep appealed but more than that the idea of once again tormenting Loki, of having him under him for a brief while, held his attention. He wanted Loki to cease his fiddling, cease his delay. To either surrender by crafting a new bed or to surrender by slinking in to sleep passively by Thor’s side. Thor’s body under Loki’s command and Loki at Thor’s mercy. 

Thor woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Loki rustling by the desk. He started with annoyance. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but while he had lain in bed waiting for Loki to finish his mutterings over the shards of mjölnir he had drifted off. Somewhere in his memory the sound of Loki softly murmuring was still a comforting sound, reminding him of the happy days when they were children. Days he didn’t really want to think about, it just brought home the pain of betrayal after betrayal even more. He shifted, squinting towards the faint glow of light that Loki had been working by, but rather than head towards the bed Loki appeared to be collecting the shards of mjölnir up. Thor didn’t like to think of Loki, who had always been unworthy of lifting mjölnir, touching the remains of what had been more than a weapon to him. He didn’t have the power or the energy to object though.

The shards gathered, Loki moved towards the door as though to leave. He hesitated, and for a moment Thor could have sworn that he glanced towards the bed, as if he was inviting Thor to follow. Thor knew he was imagining it, that if anything Loki was glancing towards the bed to check that Thor was asleep so his mischief could be done without a witness. The moment the door closed, Thor leapt up. Loki had been fully dressed, still wearing his armour of the day before having not bothered to undress for the bed he hadn’t gone near, but Thor was in his pyjamas. For a brief moment he considered arming himself or dressing, but that would take time and in the time it took him to put on his armour he might lose Loki. He would likely lose Loki anyway, Loki with millions of routes through the castle that no one knew, who was accustomed to sneaking about. At least his pyjamas would be quiet.

Treading as softly as he was able, he stepped into the corridor. It was silent and dark in a way it never had been when Odin was king. Thor wasn’t sure if there were no guards because Hela had made it so or if Loki had spelled them away as he wandered through the night. He followed Loki, who walked quietly with purpose through the corridors, pausing occasionally with his head titled as though listening. As though he was waiting for Thor to catch up.

Thor followed him to the throne room, and hid behind a pillar to watch. He knew there was little he could do, but he was curious if nothing else. He felt a duty to Asgard to keep an eye on Loki even if he couldn’t prevent his machinations from coming into being, just as he felt a duty to mjölnir after so many years of service. 

Without Hela, the throne room was much more like how it had been when he was younger and Odin had sat on the throne. He knew that in the full light of day it had changed, both from Loki’s frivolous meddling and then Hela’s touch, but in the shadows he could let himself be fooled by the illusion of having slipped back in time. He wondered what Loki meant to do. Usurp the throne from Hela eventually he had no doubt, though he couldn’t see how that was possible.

He watched as Loki carefully stepped up to the throne. He stood there for what seemed to Thor to be a long time, frozen and silent as Thor waited impatiently. After an age, with Thor beginning to feel the chill of the night air creeping through his pyjamas, Loki moved away to stand beneath the stairs. Then he raised his arms and even Thor could feel the power that filled the room, almost crushing the life out of him. The shards of mjölnir rose into the air, spreading out to form a circle enclosing the throne.

Hela appeared in the throne, looking down on them both as she had styled herself. Thor didn’t know if she had always been there or if Loki had summoned her there, but for all that she was sitting in the throne high above them she was not the one in control. Loki was. Thor could feel it through the binding magic that held him in place, just as he could feel the power of that binding seeping away, bleeding into the new spell Loki was weaving.

Hela opened her mouth, though whether to speak or scream Thor didn’t know. Nothing audible came out as she writhed, trapped in the prison of the throne and the circle of what had been mjölnir. And then, like that, the magic that filled the air was gone and with it Hela. Thor felt like he could breathe again, the bond imposed upon him used up and vanished along with the magic that had thickened the air. Mjölnir fell, heavy and whole, onto the throne where Hela had been.

He gasped, catching his breath even though he hadn’t been aware that he had lost it. Loki remained standing still, his back to Thor but Thor doubted that his presence was a secret. He climbed the steps to the throne, slowly as though he was exhausted. Or maybe as though he didn’t wish to reach his destination. Thor steeled his heart. He was free now. Against Loki he thought he stood a chance, though now that Loki had banished Hela he was reassessing the likely outcome of a battle between the brothers.

Loki grasped the handle of mjölnir and lifted it, inspecting it and the throne carefully. Just as slowly, he turned and walked back down the steps, his eyes finding Thor’s.

“Tell me, brother,” he said, and his voice was tired, all feeling drained from it, “What do you plan to do with your army? Must I banish you too for the good of the realms or can you find it in yourself to be a good king?” For a brief moment he held mjölnir out, as though to hand to Thor, but then he simply let it drop to the ground at the foot of the stairs, landing with handle upwards and inviting. “Banishments like that are tiring and take time, so if you do intend to follow through with her plans and invade Jotenheim…”

“No,” Thor said, “No, I don’t intend to invade anywhere.” Maybe he had, once upon a time. He wasn’t that person anymore. They had both changed. 

“Good,” Loki said, swaying as though he was exhausted beyond his capabilities. Thor moved to step forward, to steady him, but stopped frozen in his tracks as Loki flinched away. “Good. Then Asgard is yours, finally.”

“Is that what you’ve been planning since the beginning?” Thor asked quietly, not sure if he should look at Loki’s drawn face, the paleness not helped by the lack of sleep that Thor had helped disturb.

“Obviously,” Loki answered, blinking vaguely, the shadows about his eyes worse than Thor could ever remember. “Now you can be king, and I will hopefully never have to see you or Asgard ever again.”

“Where are you going?” Thor asked, grabbing at Loki’s arm even as Loki tried to pull back and away from him as though he had reason to be afraid of Thor’s touch.

“Anywhere but here,” Loki answered honestly, “Be a good king or I’ll banish you too. I guess Hela was right, I am like Odin. Mjölnir is restored, should be just the way it always was. I needed something that had belonged to both of you to power the spell. You can use it without any fear of her influence, she will never return.”

Thor made to speak some more but Loki looked up at him, their eyes meeting with an honesty that had been lacking for more years than Thor had realised. “Goodbye Thor,” Loki said, fading as though he was dissolving away into nothingness. Thor knew it was magic, some spell he had never seen before to allow Loki to slip away from him and vanish away onto the branches of Yggdrasil where Thor couldn’t hope to follow. He stood there with empty hands in an empty room, the faint hints of dawn beginning to creep in to illuminate the throne. He knew that the people of Asgard would be waking up, that warriors would be making their way to the practice grounds and he would have to tell them there had been another regime change, that Hela and Loki were both gone. That there would be no war, no invasion.

His eyes fell on mjölnir, discarded casually by his feet. Already knowing the judgement, he wrapped his fingers around the familiar handle and strained for a moment, before letting go.


End file.
